A Long Way
by starshards
Summary: On a special day, Boris looks back upon his life and the most important person in it. They've come a long way together. He hopes still they have a long way left to go. BL[YuBo] Oneshot.


**A long way.**

For Meg. It's about bloody time I did something for you! Love you lots, sweetheart xx 

LaDyFiCtIoN- sexier than your milk.

Sorry also, for the slang, but I honestly don't see little urchins speaking 'proper'. Additionally, I'm using manga!history in which Yuriy and Boris grew up together and lived on the streets together. Trouble is I only know Yuriy's past before Boris, so I had to make up Boris's.

NOTE: Forgive any mistakes. For some utterly bizarre reason, effeffdotnet has decided to change 'A Long Way' into 'Look At Me'. So I've had to reload this, which I managed to find.

* * *

It hadn't been a dark, cold night on which we had found one another, nor had it been raining. In fact, it was just a normal, cool, overcast day.

I was back then –believe it or not- an extremely sensitive boy and my two- week stint out on the streets had left me waif-like and meek. I believed then, as I believe now, that without aid I would have lasted only a few more days before hunger and exhaustion would have finally overcome me and I would have been just another casualty to poverty.

I was eight years old, and the country was still struggling to come to terms with the blow of the empire falling. Exhausted from the war with the Americans, and without her satellites to support her, Russia fell into poverty. Corruption had torn apart any hope for rebuilding we had left, and so, nobody cared about a little boy stumbling through the streets and picking through rubbish piles for something to eat.

No one did until that boring, normal day.

I had found myself outside the rubbish bins of a run-down little restaurant, though it was still fancy in my eyes. The smells coming from within had been intoxicating, reminding me of how hungry I all ready was. I had- with far too little care- found myself seconds later, rummaging around for scraps that would settle my rumbling stomach.

"I'd be careful, boy." The voice had startled me, and I had whirled about in fright, expecting to be cuffed with a heavy fist. Instead, I had been met with another boy, perhaps my age, perhaps older staring back at me. He had dirty red hair that hung down to his shoulders and a lean body that seemed slightly lupine, unlike my own gaunt frame. His clothes were threadbare, shoes falling apart, and yet it had been his eyes that had caught my attention- a startling blue. It was if they had been cut from blue ice and they glittered with liveliness and wary intelligence. His eyes, as well of his posture spoke of a deep-seated confidence and _pride_ that a little boy living on the streets shouldn't have been able to retain. From that instant, onwards I was drawn to him.

"You don't half make noise." He commented as my whirling knocked a can over. "Anyway, like I was saying. Be careful with this place. It may be fancy for the likes of us but old Dima is a miserable old git and he'll beat you black an' blue if he finds you sniffing at his scraps. Plus, he's been known to sprinkle that stuff with rat poison." He said casually. At the word _poison_, my hands had withdrawn quickly. I remember, as his eyes had searched me, somewhere in the back of my mind I had prayed that this boy might accept me, for what I did not know. "You're skinny." He had announced after several more seconds had drained by. Part of me had wanted to defend myself, but nerves had held down my tongue, and instead I had continued staring at him, moon-eyed. He gave me a funny look. "What? You dumb or something?" I shook my head, but still had said nothing.

He had shrugged and turned to walk away.

Panic set in. Perhaps I had been desperate for the company, or maybe I had known that I would not survive much longer without some form of help. "Wait!" My voice sounded foreign to me, rough from lack of use.

He stopped and looked back with a tiny smirk. "So you _can _talk."

"Of course I can!" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, and I blushed at how heatedly I responded, as well as the way my voice had cracked.

"Ah, so you have some bite, after all. Maybe you'll survive for a few more weeks after all. Good luck, kid." He started to walk away once again.

"Wait!" I had repeated. "Wait! Help me, please!" My feet had carried me to him, hands reaching out for the tiny beam of light that had inexplicably lit up the monochrome of my life.

A single red eyebrow had risen, as he gave me a nonchalant look. "Why _should_ I?" He had asked honestly, brushing back a stray, red lock.

The simplicity of the question had astonished me for a second, but quickly gathering my wit I tried appealing to his nature. "Because, like you said! I'll die if you don't help me."

"So?" That same tone of voice.

I remember that my mind had scrambled for an answer to that. The best I could come up with was; "The bible says—"

His laugher had interrupted my words, the sound devoid of humour. "Look around you! There is no God here!" His laughter subsided. "Your God has forsaken us, kid."

His words had frightened me, though I fought not to show it. I had realised by that point that I needed to be strong to get this boys attention. Despite being only eight, I knew that my future depended upon that roguish boy. "Maybe so… but are you any better for forsaking _me_?"

To this day, I am proud of those words, because for the briefest second, he had looked surprised. It had quickly faded, but what was left behind will forever remain sacred in my mind, because in that instant, I knew my life had changed. His tiny smile had told me everything.

"Come on then, kid." He had beckoned with one pale hand, smudged with dirt.

"Boris." The word came impulsively. "My name is Boris." When he had turned back to me, for a brief, wild moment, I had feared that I had offended him somehow.

And then he had nodded. "Yuriy." Was his reply. "Remember though, the minute you start to drag me down, I'll leave you to die, got it?"

I could only nod vigorously and scamper after him.

* * *

Under Yuriy's guidance, I grew stronger by the day. I remained on the thin side, but was no longer gaunt. We quickly grew used to one another's presence, and once I had gotten used to his rough ways I had started to adapt. Much of the sensitivity I had as a boy faded from me and though I suspected during some early points (and still do, though upon asking Yuriy, he simply turns away and changes the subject with a wistful smile) that I caused him small amounts of grief, and feared he would be gone every morning, he was always the first thing I'd see upon waking up.

I learned not long after I met him, that Yuriy was a year older than me and had ended up on the streets after he had run away from home. His mother had abandoned him, and his father had been a drunk who had no issue with taking his belt to his son. Even now, Yuriy speaks of that time with little more interest than a casual observation. Because he was used to it, Yuriy has a hard time dealing with people's reactions to violence and such. Many accuse him of being uncaring or emotionless, but I think it's simply because he's just not phased by it.

In return, I told Yuriy of how my father had died in a mining accident, and my mother of a weak heart just a month before I had met him. My grandfather had had no time for me and had beaten me for good measure before turning me out.

I think it was when we had spoken to one another on such a personal level, that we actually passed into a state, which many would perceive as friendship. I realised that, while his tutorage was monumentally important to my well-being, it was his companionship that gave me the will to keep on surviving. I had a purpose in life from that moment on; to look after Yuriy as he looked after me.

We fast became utterly inseparable. Yuriy liked to pretend that he only wanted me near so he could boss me around, but we both knew that he was just as desperate for companionship as I was. When winter came, we huddled together in shabby hostels, hands clinging to one another not only for the heat, but also for the support we both needed to see the night through and to make it to the next day. It's scary, looking back, to know that without that one person, I would have died that winter. I have no doubts about it.

Yuriy was everything. He was my reason for living. I wanted to make him proud by carrying on, which is why, nearly two years later when I was ten year, when strange men appeared before us carrying guns I –without the first thought- stepped before Yuriy to protect him.

* * *

It was the first time I laid eyes upon _him_. He looked surprised by my courage, and even more so when Yuriy pushed me aside.

"What do _you_ want?" I realise now, that in his pre-pubescent voice that comment was probably laughable, but at the time I felt nothing but awe for him.

"My, my. You're certainly feisty, aren't you?" The man had commented with a deep chuckle.

"Look, we didn't steal nothing, all right?" Yuriy responded, ignoring the comment.

"And I'm not suggesting that you did, lad." His voice was soft, coaxing.

Yuriy regarded him with narrowed, suspicious eyes. "What do you want then?" Blunt as ever, I'm still proud of that quality.

"I have an offer for you." He smiled at us. "How would you like to come with us? We look after little boys like you and your friend. We have a big beautiful house and we keep children well fed and looked after."

I'll admit, my heart skipped a beat at the thought. Yuriy had been the only thing that had gone right in my life so far, and so the thought of another blessing was exciting to say the least.

Yuriy however didn't seem convinced. "I've heard about you people. You're perverts, aren't you?"

The man had seemed surprised by that, and then he had laughed. "You certainly _are_ a firecracker." He smirked, still amused. "No, boy. We are not perverts. We're trainers. We're looking for young boys to train to be the best of the best in a sport called Beyblading. How does _that_ sound, lad? Fame and glory? You'd never have to go hungry again." Yuriy looked suspicious. Noticing this, the man's eyes had glanced at me. "How does your friend feel? Do you not want _him_ to have a better life?" He turned to me fully when he saw Yuriy's guilty look. "How about it, young man? Wouldn't you like to be looked after and guided into a career?"

I remember that my throat had felt dry. The thought had sent a pang of longing through me, but yet…

I had stepped forwards, words carrying a surety that perhaps that man had not been used to in a boy of my age. "I stand by Yuriy's decision."

Both he and Yuriy had been surprised by my response. Nodding, the man smirked once more. "It seems I've found just what I'm looking for. It would be a terrible waste for you to turn this opportunity down."

Yuriy had taken one look at me, and in that instant I saw something… something I wouldn't understand until I was older. He had nodded. "You're not perverts?" He asked warily.

"No, lad."

Yuriy gave me a look as if he had just signed us over to a saviour… or the devil. "Fine."

"My name is Balkov." The man stated. "Welcome to Biovolt."

* * *

Biovolt had been true to their word—we never _did_ go hungry again. Unfortunately, most of the time we were too exhausted to eat. I won't go into detail, most of those had come out in the press following the downfall of Biovolt, and more so once the scam behind BEGA had been revealed. All I'll say on the matter that it was an entirely new Hell. I wasn't naïve; I'd seen enough living out on the streets so I hadn't been expecting some kind of loving environment. However, I certainly hadn't been expecting to be slave-driven into learning this new sport. We had new clothes, daily washes, and a warm bed to sleep in, and yet we had to _work_ for it, because if you didn't…

I'm sure everyone's read _that_ particular report.

Yuriy and I were always together, they may not have been fond of friendship, but they weren't stupid enough to split up two who worked so well together. Yuriy was –and still is- a natural born leader, and he swiftly gained command over all of the other boys; even those older than himself. Most of the other boys had not been on the streets for as long as we had, and as a result, their sad pasts were at the forefronts of their mind making them very meek, and very eager to please. Yuriy of course, was argumentative and critical. It resulted in more than a few 'punishments', but we could all tell that of all the bladers there, Yuriy was the one who was most favoured by the higher-ups.

Of course, where Yuriy was, I was too. Due to my earlier adaptation, my own attitude had developed to stand for no-nonsense. Of course, this resulted in suffering some rather serious punishments, myself, but when I saw the pride in Yuriy's eyes when I came limping back into our room, it was more than worth it.

We spurred one another onwards, and we soon became the two most outstanding performers. I was his self- appointed second- in- command and together we set ourselves apart from everyone there, working our way through the bizarre social order until we were at the top.

Unfortunately, it wasn't good enough to be at the top. They needed to _improve_ the best they had, and so, the experiments had begun. It was not far into the new treatments when Yuriy and I shared our very first kiss. It was nothing more than a faint brushing of lips, but as Yuriy had lain upon my bed because his muscles had been too sore to climb up to his, he had interrupted our quiet conversation by quickly leaning in to push his lips softly against mine.

The contact had been no more than two seconds, but there had been no awkwardness, or shyness. Maybe it had been due to our circumstances, but to me, it felt as if the small action was confirmation of a closeness we both treasured. I think Yuriy thought the same, because his smile had been beautiful.

Like all relationships, ours progressed. By the time a few more years had passed, and Ivan and Sergei had worked their way up the ranks to join our 'gang', Yuriy and I had moved onto something more intense. We used one another to escape life, though we retained that closeness we had shared for nearly half of our lives. We spent the nights cradled in each other's arms, forgetting the past and present and looking to a future that we were sure to have together. I am adamant to this day that my childish adoration and idolisation of him did equate to any kind of love that existed in romance novels; no matter how impure many thought it to be.

I learned just _how_ impure it was seen to be when Balkov caught us in a heated moment. Even three years on, I can still feel the blows. Homosexuality is not welcomed in Russia. They proved that by nearly beating me to death. When I eventually regained consciousness, I saw no sign of Yuriy.

The hours turned to days, and the days to weeks. At the start I demanded to see Yuriy, to know what had happened to him. My demanding turned to begging. Without Yuriy- my very reason for living- to keep me strong, I began to crumple. It was then their corrective treatment began. I detested them for it, and they knew and relished in it, cultivating my hate until it was all I could feel. I won't go into details; I really don't like to think about it, all I will say that they could make an effective horror movie out of it if they wanted to.

When I was finally bought face to face with Yuriy again, I found that my twisted and mutated thoughts and feelings could no longer comprehend just what it was I had used to feel. I couldn't even tell if I missed it. In return, Yuriy acted as if he barely even recognised me. At the time, I didn't even think on what could have happened to _him_.

My mind was an utter mess, which I suppose, is just how they wanted it. I was filled with a wicked spite that drove a deep desire to hurt everyone and anyone. I followed Yuriy because I was ordered to. When Kai joined, I followed him. I was mindless in so many ways, so much so that I can barely even remember my battle against Rei.

I owe a lot to that battle. At certain points I wanted to take that boys neck into my hands and snap it, and yet… and yet I owe him. To this day, I have not told him that, nor do I plan to but… in losing that battle a little part of the rage in my mind died down and faded away. It was like a seam that had been picked apart; ensuring that with a little pull the entire blanket would be pulled apart. Forgive my metaphor, I'm not very good at explaining myself, but…

It took time. Yuriy's battle against that kid in the cap (I always have a hard time remembering Japanese names) helped me a lot too. When Yuriy had been trapped in that giant ice crystal I had felt something alien to me over the past year. In hindsight, I know it was concern; the point is it set the ball rolling. I was curious at first as to why Yuriy's battle had aroused foreign feelings within me. Once I had felt those emotions more came, as if I had just stepped out of a tunnel into a bright day and a world of colour. Things started to make sense again. People overwhelmed me, but no longer did I hate them. Of course, I had a difficult time trusting anyone other than my team mates. Once again though, it was Yuriy who guided me when I most needed it, not long before the finals of the world tournament.

We were older, wiser and sadder, and yet in a bizarre replication of an earlier event, he came to me offering guidance.

"I think we need each other to become normal people, Borya." He had said.

"Normal people?" The concept seemed abstract to me.

His eyes had turned to me, and once again I saw them as I had when I was eight years old. My breath had caught in my throat. "Don't you think we deserve it?"

In that instant a thought had struck me- _he_ deserved it. He deserved it more than anyone else in the world and I wanted to see him make it. I smiled. For the first time in nearly three years, I found myself smiling. I think that was the moment I felt like myself again. "We do." I had agreed.

* * *

The following disastrous attempt to take down BEGA landed Yuriy in a coma. It is not an unknown fact, though one thing that no one knew was how much I suffered for it. The idea of being without Yuriy near reversed everything I had worked to reclaim over the past couple of years. I realised once more that I lived _for_ Yuriy.

Perhaps that was what had driven me to return an action from many years ago- only seconds after Yuriy regained consciousness, I kissed him. Mindful of his injuries, it was the tenderest brush of lips against lips I could muster and yet when I pulled back; he was smiling at me.

"That's the nicest way I've ever woken up, Borya." He had murmured softly. I couldn't help but smile at his words and bush a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. "Thank you. That was annoying me."

"I know." I responded.

By the time Yuriy was formerly released from hospital, with all checks confirming him to be healthy, BEGA had toppled. Balkov had finally been arrested and details into the "training facility" at Balkov Abbey had been released.

Yuriy and I settled into a life of obscurity. I think we were both happier that way. I know I was more comfortable with it like that. Just like before, our relationship has progressed and, far away from Russia, we feel safe. We're not quite normal, our lives are punctuated by the occasional visit from the therapist to keep track of us, but I think we're starting to get the hang of it.

Today I celebrated my eighteenth birthday. I wasn't fond of the idea, but it's what people tend to do. Seeing as I do not feel comfortable around most people, we only had the members of the former BBA team, Ivan and Sergei around. I was surprised that Rei could make it, or that he even wanted to come, but it turns out that now he lives here in Japan with Kai. Who'd've thought it?

Grudgingly, I admit that it was all… okay. I wouldn't go as far as to say _fun_, but I enjoyed it all the same. Everyone went home about three hours ago and now I'm just lying here, staring at the man in my arms. He's asleep, a deep slumber that he can only achieve when I'm around and for that I'm thankful. He was stressed over organising all of this, and I appreciate it. Not like I've told him, but I don't think I need to. We seem to understand one another on a level beyond _normal_ lovers. We've really come a long way together, Yuriy guiding me every step of the way.

In return I live for him. I love him completely and trust him totally. I think I'll worry on how I should repay him for the rest of my life. Still though… I can't help but smile –the one saved just for him as I reach out and brush away a rogue lock of hair that obscures my view of his flawless face.

Maybe a good way to start would be to think about what to do for _his_ birthday.

* * *

. 


End file.
